#having to remake my entire bed when im ready to sleep normally turns me into number one grouch and i didnt care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

macbookpro-hard-drive · 5 years

Text

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.4

i arise from my grave to post this

so uhhhh consider............... im a tired college student-

anyway uh

i swear this part is shorter than i intended but i guess i’ll die

warnings: squip. thts it. the squip. manipulation, abuse, everything that kinda comes with writing about the SQUIP. also horror movie mentions but nothing explicit (although a kill is mentioned from one of said horror movies)

Halloween day finally comes, and thankfully lands on a Saturday to give you maximum time to hang out with Michael and Jeremy (who, upon learning you’d be joining the two of them during a lucky moment between classes, had stared at you for a moment with furrowed brow before commenting he didn’t know that the two of you were friends again). Your nerves were getting the best of you as you flipped through your clothes, slipping into a comfortable pair of black jeans. The entire time, your SQUIP lingered around you, talking you through some game plan. You stripped off the large shirt you used for pajamas and slipped into a plain black t-shirt, before fishing your jean jacket from your bed.

Finally, you turned to your SQUIP’s form standing behind you. “Maybe I could, y’know... do this myself?” You suggested, before following it up with a quick, almost apologetic, “I don’t think I should be depending on you for every interaction... right?”

At first, it didn’t respond. It stared at you, lips pressed into a thin line as it gave you a once-over. After letting out a small hum of approval at your ensemble, it shook it’s head. “I’ve run the numbers and that will result in your failure, [y/n]. It’s best to stick with the original plan,” and then it paused for a moment, “I’m beginning to detect that you don’t trust me.”

“I do!” You responded quickly, before you nervously pushed past the intangible figure to look in your mirror. Combing your fingers through your hair, you let the question weigh in your mind before you finally looked back to your SQUIP. “Is... Is there any way to get rid of you?”

“No.” The response was sharp, quick to shoot down any and every idea you’d been formulating.

“Oh. So...” You trailed off, before crossing your room and fishing through your dresser to find a pair of socks, “I’m stuck with you, then.”

“Stuck implies you no longer want me here, [y/n].”

“It’s not that I don’t want you here...” You mused aloud, before snagging a pair of shoes and sitting on your bed. “It’s just... I don’t think I want you around when I’m, like, thirty.”

“Plenty of world leaders would kill to have a SQUIP, [y/n]. Consider yourself lucky.”

You merely shrugged at the sentiment before your phone chimed with a text from Michael, almost as if on cue to end this awkward moment between you and the voice in your head. Quickly, you finished getting ready and shoved your keys and phone into your pocket, and you raced out to Michael’s car. Jeremy was already in the passenger seat, forcing you to retire into the back - which, you immediately sprawled out and absolutely enjoyed the space as Michael took off, launching into a list of the contenders for the evening. Scream, Halloween, A Nightmare On Elm Street, specifically the remake of Friday The 13th (and, for a moment, you heard Jeremy exhale sharply at the title), Final Destination...

“And Terrifier-” Michael began, eyes cutting towards Jeremy for a split second.

Immediately, Jeremy smacked Michael’s arm. “Dude, I told you I’m not watching Terrifier-” He shifted, “fuck that clown.”

You looked between the two of them. “What’s Terrifier?”

Michael’s beaming at your question. “Jer. We have to. They don’t-”

“No!” He retorted, “fuck you, I’m sparing them, then-”

“C’mon, Jeremy,” Michael teased further, “it’s just one kill-”

“HE SAWS HER IN HALF, MICHAEL.” Jeremy’s voice went up an octave, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “that’s horrifying-”

You rose a brow in response. “What’s so bad about that-”

Jeremy turned to face you, “okay.” He shut his eyes for a moment, composing himself, before he opened them once more, “there’s this girl that gets kidnapped, right? She gets... suspended spread eagle, and cut down the middle.”

“Okay, but-”

“She’s upside down.” When you winced at the mental image, Jeremy looked back at Michael, “see? Any normal person would find that disgusting-”

“Alright,” Michael conceded, “no Terrifier. Got it.”

If there was one thing that became apparent extremely quickly, it was that the Friday The 13th remake was fucking awful. Without Michael’s constant quips (plenty having to do with Mr.Supernatural being in the movie), you weren’t sure how you survived - especially during a sex scene until the poetic line of “you have perfect nipple placement, baby” was spoken and immediately the three of you are choking on laughter - Michael more than happy to mock it. And thank fuck for that, because you’d been uncomfortable watching the scene up until that line - to say nothing of how awkwardly silent Jeremy had gone. The moment the movie was over, Michael began to queue up Netflix with the promise of watching something actually good. The opening moments of Scream had been enough to prove that.

From beside you, Michael lowered his voice, looking at you and Jeremy, “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

You playfully nudged him with your elbow, “fuck, dude, that wasn’t even a good impression-”

“I think it was great, actually,” Michael looked to Jeremy, “don’t you agree?”

Looking between the two of you, Jeremy debated for a moment before finally giving his answer, “I, uh, kinda have to side with [y/n]-”

“Unbelievable. Betrayal.” Michael leaned back into the couch, looking back to the movie, “I let you come into my house, eat my snacks-”

“-That I helped buy,” Jeremy cut in.

“That my dear friend Jeremiah helped buy,” Michael smirked a little, “and this is how I’m repaid.”

“C’mon, Mikey,” you nudged him once more, “Jeremy’s not gonna lie about your shitty impression.”

“He would if I was Christine.”

“That’s because Christine’s talented,” Jeremy looked away, “it wouldn’t have sucked if she did it.”

For a moment, you faltered. “Yeah,” you halfheartedly said, and pretended not to catch Michael’s concerned glance at your sudden change in behavior, “he’s got a point.”

The moment Michael went to say anything, your phone began to ding relentlessly. With the intention of turning it to silent, you pulled it from your jacket pocket only to freeze the moment you caught a glimpse of the screen. Tweet after tweet, text after text, all of it came in rapid-fire, whether they were directly to you or not. You pulled yourself off of the couch, ignoring Michael’s call after you as you head upstairs to open up your Twitter.

Rich set a fire. Jake’s house was burned down. Rich was in the hospital, and so was Jake.

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you almost jumped as you turned to face Michael. He stared at you for a moment, giving you a once-over before finally speaking, “you okay?”

You shrugged it off, stumbling as you took a step back, “yeah-”

Michael’s gaze goes soft as he picked up on the fear that was racing through your blood and shining on your face. “That’s bullshit, [y/n],” he said, “look, I won’t push you to talk, but-”

Swallowing your nerves, you forced yourself to stand tall and get your emotions under control. “Can you drive me home?”

He glanced back to the door, where Jeremy had been coming up the steps, “uh, yeah- just let me grab my phone-”

And then he left you alone with Jeremy as he retreated downstairs. Biting his bottom lip nervously, he tore his eyes away from you, before finally appearing to gather some courage to speak to you. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded quickly, “yeah, just...” You trailed off, looking down at the floor, “something came up.”

“What?”

Immediately, you panicked. Something about saying Rich Goranski is in the hospital and I’m worried felt too heavy to drop at the moment. So you just stayed silent as Michael came back upstairs with his phone.

The moment you were back in the sanctuary of your room, you found your phone once more. Flipping through tweets, you felt your stomach drop further. He burned the house down because he knew he was gay and couldn’t handle that, that he was dead, that he was high and drunk, that Jake had broken both of his legs while escaping the fire, and you saw a few tweets from some pissed people about how they’d been slightly burned while escaping the fire. But Rich received the worst of it.

“But-” You mused aloud, “how did he - why would he-”

“Rich lacked the proper coping mechanism. His SQUIP was most likely disabled due to the alcohol he consumed that night,” your SQUIP stepped into existence in front of you, and you lowered your phone as you looked up at it, “and with everything else he’s been dealing with...”

Your blood ran cold at the implication. “You don’t mean he-”

“Perhaps it was just an accident.”

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, completely disheveled from your worries. “I should go see him.”

“He won’t be awake.” Your SQUIP crossed it’s arms as it looked down at you, “besides... he most likely won’t be having visitors yet.”

“I don’t care-”

“[y/n]. You need to rest first. You can visit Rich tomorrow...” You finally gave into what it was saying, sitting down on your bed for a moment, “besides.” You looked up, “you did well tonight. You deserve a break.”

“I... what?”

“I let you control the conversation. Instead of giving you the correct things to say, I decided to watch. You performed amiably. Congratulations.” Your SQUIP smiled at you, “you’re learning. Of course, we still have more work to do, but it’s progress.”

“Oh.” You stood, stripping off your jacket, “thank you, then.” You paused for a moment, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Don’t forget,” it said, and you turned to look at it, “you have me.”

Over the next few days, you’d been relentlessly going to the hospital - borrowing your parents’ cars whenever you could. After several days of trying, you were finally able to get in to see Rich, and your heart sank in your chest when you finally saw him. He wasn’t awake, as your SQUIP had said, but he was alive and that was enough for you in that moment. He was broken and bruised, sure, but the fact his heart monitor provided a steady beat to break the silence in the room was almost like music. You stood at his bedside, looking down on him as he slept. You hugged your arms close to your body - what would have happened to you if you had gone to the party? Would you be here, alongside or instead of Rich? Would you have been able to stop him from... whatever he had been trying to do?

“Rich,” you finally say aloud, and your tears choke you, “fuck - Rich, I’m sorry-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” your SQUIP’s touch grazed your shoulder, “this wasn’t your fault. There was nothing we could have done.”

“I should have been there, I could have stopped him-”

“It was for the best that you were with Michael and Jeremy, [y/n].”

For a moment, you’re quiet and afraid. But you finally asked the question that had begun to weigh down on you: “is this going to happen to me?”

“Of course not. Now... let’s get back to work,” your SQUIP said, “it’s important you don’t dwell on this for too long. Let’s visit Jake while we’re here.”

Going along with it’s idea, you’d easily found Jake’s room after a few minutes of searching. The TV had been on with some cooking show displayed, and you were more than glad to see Jake awake and as well as he could be for someone with two broken legs. When you cautiously walked in, he brightened up immediately - and for a moment, you had assumed it was because you weren’t a nurse coming to check on him.

“[y/n]!” He called out as you walked in, “how are you?”

Caught off guard by the question, you stammered for a moment, “I’m - uh, I’m fine,” you said, “how are you?”

“Great!” He said, “I mean - the whole broken legs thing is, y’know, not that great, but I’m glad to see you.”

“You... you are?”

“Yeah!” He said, “Rich always talks about you, y’know.” The moment you flushed, Jake chuckled, “he said you’re a lot cooler than you seem.”

“Oh.” You looked away for a moment, “that’s sweet of him-”

“Do you still do the art stuff?” He asked, and immediately you looked back at him.

“How did you know that I-”

He cut you off, “there was this project back in freshman year that you did with Michael Mell, and, uh, Jeremy-something. You did the art for it, right?”

Nodding, you slowly remembered the piece you’d been repressing due to how rushed it had been. “Right. Yeah, I still do art stuff,” you smiled at him, “do you know when you’re getting out?”

“Nah,” he sunk into the bed, “shouldn’t be long, though. We should hang out!”

“Oh. Uh. Don’t you hang out with Chloe and Brooke...?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but you came to visit me, so... we should still hang.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Sure,” you said, fiddling with your hair, “that’d be great, Jake.”

Jake reached out for you, and immediately pulled you into an awkward hug. “Fuck, dude, Rich was right about you.”

“About me being cool, or...?”

“He said you’re really fuckin’ nice, since you helped him out with something.” He shrugged, “are you two... not friends?”

“I, uh - we are, sorta-”

“Good.” He said, “Rich is a good dude to his friends, y’know.”

“What about your house?” You asked.

Jake’s smile fell, “I mean... I think it was an accident. Since, y’know, Rich wouldn’t just burn my house down, right?”

You nodded. “Right.” Stepping back away from the bed, you smiled once more, “I hope you get out of here soon, Jake.”

On your way out of the hospital, you stood in the gift shop for far too long, occupied with your own thoughts. So Rich had been talking about you - and, whatever he said aside from you being nice, helpful, and cooler than you seem, it had been enough to make Jake Dillinger think the two of you were friends. You almost smiled at the idea, but the underlying feeling that Rich would wake up and immediately ditch you lingered within the pit of your stomach. Shaking your head, you dismissed the thought as you headed out to your car. You had things to do.

After all, you shouldn’t dwell.

Over a week later, there’s this uneasy feeling that’s stuck with you from the first moment you saw Rich in that hospital bed. Uncertainty? Fear? You weren’t sure - but it dwelled within the pit of your stomach, making you doubt every move no matter whether you or your SQUIP made it. You’d just gotten home from hanging out with Michael and Jeremy at the mall, your backpack swung from your shoulder to the foot of your bed, and you nearly collapse as you sit down. Slowly, you sank your head into your hands, warm against your face before you finally let go and fall back onto your bed. When you uncovered your face, your SQUIP had materialized before you.

It leaned over you. “Is there a problem? You should be happy since you spent time with Jeremy-”

“I am, I just-” You paused for a moment, “I just don’t feel like I’m.. me anymore.”

“You are you, [y/n].”

You nodded slowly in agreement, before propping yourself up on your elbows. “Right, but... I feel like you’re taking control of everything and I’m - I’m just... fake.”

It raised a brow at the mere idea. “You’re far from artificial.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you couldn’t help but feel... off. “But you don’t let me control things-”

With a heavy sigh, your SQUIP shook it’s head before pacing around your room. “That’s because we’re still in phase B of our plan. Once we get to phase C, you’ll have more control-”

“And when will that be?”

It looked back at you, slowing to a stop. “Once we pin down Jeremy’s feelings for you, you can be more yourself.”

After a moment, you sank back against your bed, shutting your eyes for a moment. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. After all, relationships are like this...”

You opened your eyes again. “What?”

“Faking it until you get it? Revealing yourself when you have them? It’s very common, [y/n].”

When it said that, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical. But when you tried to remember your last relationship (or, rather, a weak attempt at one), it felt so distant that you were unsure of how it had went. Yet you nod along nonetheless. The feeling of of dread stayed with you.

And it continued to stay attached to you like a shadow over the next few days. Even when you found yourself sitting on Michael’s bed, a pillow hugged against your chest as he and Jeremy were ecstatically talking about one of Michael’s latest finds from the guy at Spencer’s. You’d zoned out for the time being, thoughts more preoccupied with what was to come. How much longer would it be until you had control over yourself again?

But your SQUIP’s voice jarred you from your thoughts. “We need to go.”

As Michael pulled out a bottle of red soda, a slightly faded plastic label reading MOUNTAIN DEW RED crinkling as he did, you held back a frown at your SQUIP. “[y/n],” Michael said with a smile, holding it out, “you want one?”

“Hell yeah, dude-” You had began as you reached for it, barely getting it within your grasp before a shock rang through your hand, a small hiss of pain emitting from you as the bottle hit the floor. “Shit, sorry, Michael-”

But a flash of pain cut you off before you could try to explain anything away. Your voice was distant as you heard yourself speak, bullshitting some excuse as you lost control of your body - it moving on it’s own despite your desperate attempts to take back what was yours. You managed to take control back the moment you got outside, knees weak and the following shock was enough to send you crashing onto your knees.

“What the fuck?!” You snapped, speaking aloud as another shock ran through you. “FUCK-”

“I told you we need to leave.”

“I didn’t want to-”

“[y/n], we-”

“No!” You snapped once more, “no - this is still my life - I want to-” Your speech devolved as you struggled to word your thoughts, “it was just a soda!” Another shock ran through you. “What the fuck- come on - I just- it was just-”

And then it all made sense. The panic. The sudden change. How close had you been? How fucking close had you been? When you tried to get back up and turn yourself around, you found yourself fighting for control all over again as your body turned away from Michael’s house, every step forcing you farther and farther from salvation.

“[y/n]!” Michael’s voice rang clear out across his front lawn, and before you could try to do anything, he was running up to you - catching you by the wrist. “Hey - what the fuck, dude? Are you okay? What just happened-”

But he stopped, staring at you. You, completely terrified and shaking and fighting for control of your own fucking body. You were, to put it simply, a mess. Disheveled, hands twitchy, breathing labored as you forced yourself to stay planted where you were. You broke through, “get the Mountain Dew Red” slipping past your lips in a hiss before another shock of pain sparks through you, and you’re pulling yourself away from Michael once more.

A door slammed. Before you could go anywhere, Michael’s footsteps pound against the pavement as he tackled you to the ground. Your body fought against him. He managed to grab you by the wrists, pinning you down, his knees at your abdomen as you continued to thrash against your will against him.

“[y/n]-” Michael began, before his nails dug into your skin, “what the literal fuck is going on?”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you fought for your voice. “I-” You managed to force past your lips, “I - I took this - pill,” your voice strained, and you kept fighting for control, “I thought Jeremy would like me but - but I fucked - I fucked up, Michael-” You were straight up about to breakdown, voice wavering with every forced syllable, “I’m so sorry, I just - I can’t-”

“[y/n].” It’s voice cut clearly through your mind, almost afraid for a second. “I promise - I’ll do better for you. We’ll scrap this plan and make a new one. You just have to let me try again. I promise-”

The door slammed once more, and Jeremy is rushing over, questioning everything along the way.

It turned nasty. “You’ll never be the same, [y/n],” it hissed, “think about it - if you keep me, you’ll be normal - you’ll never have to hurt again. If you get rid of me, you’ll never be accepted - you’ll be an outcast all over again, and Jeremy and Michael are guaranteed to hate you-”

The last things you remembered were the faintly fruity taste on your lips, a thousand questions flying around you, and an intense pain that seemed to completely split you in two as a scream tore it’s way out of you.

And then everything went black.

#mj's writing corner #bmc #be more chill reader insert #be more chill x reader #bmc reader insert #jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine #god i hope my quick proofreading was enough to catch anything tht wasnt finished-

30 notes · View notes